I am not a good shopper. About once a year, Kim lets me know that it’s time to get some new clothes, which she often does by laughing at the various holes in my current wardrobe. So we go off, find a shirt and a pair of cotton pants I like and buy the same style in about three different colours, plus a pair of jeans that look exactly like every other pair of jeans I’ve bought in my life. This is simply how it works.

It was in the pursuit of this annual endeavour that we found ourselves in the Yonge and Bloor area, and decided to have dinner at Spring Rolls. The place was already getting crowded before 6, but we slumped into a table for two and ordered a couple of glasses of wine. Kim went to the washroom and came back quite excited about the decor, telling me that I had to go check it out. The men’s, I mean.

After waiting a while for the waiter to come back with our drinks and take our order, I go upstairs to check out the washroom and wash my hands. The design in the washroom was pretty cool, I suppose, but what I found interesting was that on the way I passed an open door marked “private.” I could see that inside there were a number of people, at least three computer screens and some other electronic equipment. What could it all be for? Was this some kind of secret restaurant-based CTU?

For our appetizer, we split, naturally, some spring rolls, and we each ordered soup. The spring rolls were quite good, with a crispy wrapper and a mushroom-chicken filling that was soft and moist, the consistency of a good chicken stuffing. Kim’s wonton soup was also quite nice, with a subtly flavoured broth and big, round dumplings. My Tom Yum Goong soup, however, never arrived at the table. I didn’t bother reminding the waiter about it, as Kim’s soup was bigger than she expected, and she ended up giving me half her dumplings. At least I know the command-and-control centre upstairs isn’t for monitoring what customers order. Heh, heh. “Where’s that soup?!” tick… tick… tick…

Although I didn’t really mind the absence of the soup in the end, it does bring up a peeve. If you’re a waiter, really, don’t show off by not writing down the order when you get it. Especially if you’re not actually going to remember the order. I’m not going to think you’re any worse of a server if you’re scribbling while I talk. Go ahead, write away. Call into central command on the wire. I don’t care.

Although our mains arrived safely and on time, they didn’t match the quality of the appetizers. Kim thought her chicken in black bean sauce was pretty bland, and did not like the fried tofu in it at all. As she pointed out, there are ways to successfully deep-fry tofu, but if the result is the tough-skinned sponges full of oil that we got, you’ve done it wrong. My red curry beef had excellent crispy vegetables and a gorgeous curry sauce, but more of the gross tofu and that odd soft-textured meat that you find in some Asian restaurants. I don’t know how it got that way, and I’m not sure I want to. I really have nothing but praise for the curry sauce, however. The coconut milk flavour was deep and rich, and although the whole thing was not too spicy, it had a beautiful bite that snuck up on you after a while.

But neither that nor Spring Rolls’ inexpensive meals could really rescue the experience for us. Kim made the comment that the quality of the food has gone downhill ever since they made the move to a bigger space a while back. I’m afraid that’s sadly true.